


Ghost of a King

by bofurrific



Series: Hobbit Drabbles [29]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, I cannot title things, I shouldn't even bother with titles guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 04:34:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bofurrific/pseuds/bofurrific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink Meme Fill</p><p>Why Balin leaves for Moria.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, laddie." He murmured, although there was no one around in the twilight to overhear him. "But I cannot stay here. I would have followed you anywhere, my king, and Erebor is no more home to me than a city of men, without you here."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost of a King

Balin stood before the great monument of Thorin Oakenshield and felt every one of his many years. He reached out and stroked the smooth stone with a quiet and pained sign.

"I'm sorry, laddie." He murmured, although there was no one around in the twilight to overhear him. "But I cannot stay here. I would have followed you anywhere, my king, and Erebor is no more home to me than a city of men, without you here."

Balin closed his eyes against the wash of tears that thinking of Thorin always brought him. Dain was a good king, a just king, but he was not Thorin, who Balin had loved since he was a wee dwarrow, chasing the young prince through the halls of the mountain and later onto the battlefield and across all of middle-earth to reclaim their long-lost mountain. Dain was just a king; Thorin had been everything.

Moria was an ancient kingdom, far and dark enough that maybe if he ventured there, Thorin's ghost might not follow him.

Balin hefted his pack onto his shoulder and bowed to the monument of his king, turning with a regretful expression to where his group of warriors was awaiting him at the doors of the mountain. 

Clapping a hand over Óin's shoulder, he nodded to the front of the troupe to start on their journey. He caught a flash of finger hair beneath a grey hood and raised his eyebrows at a young scholar watching him with wide, timid brown eyes, as if afraid that Balin would scoff at him and turn him away, but Balin only offered Ori a gentle smile and nod of acceptance.

Giving one last glance at the monument, Balin murmured his goodbyes to his king, and set off out from the mountain they had fought for, to find some corner of the mines where the memories would let him be.


End file.
